On Endings
by shadow-fire3
Summary: Roughly 2-3 years after the Winchesters stopped the aocalypse Dean has isolated himself but he is about to be called on, even if he has lost faith in everything he once believed in...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer – I don't own anything, unfortunately. I wish I did but I don't. Each character belongs to their respected (highly respected) owner.

**A/N - this takes place roughly 2-3 years after Swan Song...**

There were days when he did not want to go on. Days when he felt that he had physically passed the point of no return. He surprised himself every time, taking step after step, going mile after mile. The last time he really looked at himself in the mirror he'd been surprised by the dark smudges under his eyes and the hair that now dusted his collar and fell into his eyes. He looked like a man running from his past that he would never be able to escape.

He sat in the driver's seat of his car and peered out into the night. A light fall of rain began to fall and he cursed under his breath. There was no hope of continuing the hunt tonight. The rain would make tracking the demon very difficult, not to mention, unpleasant. He sighed and yawned widely, feeling his jaw creak. He knew getting some sleep would be the best option.

Starting the car, he slipped into gear and drove along the deserted waterfront, keeping an eye out for anything unusual as the rain began to fall with some force. The night was turning to a bust and, in a matter of minutes, he found himself driving back to the motel he had booked earlier in the evening. Even the short run from the car to his room was enough to get him sopping wet and he swore angrily at the sky.

He stood in front of his door for some time, not wanting to spend another night alone. A long time ago he could have gone out and found a girl to warm his bed with him but that was an age ago. Now, he didn't like being around people all that much. He was stuck. Reluctantly, he opened the door and entered his room for the night.

He turned on the nearest lamp while shucking off his wet clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He fought the urge to curl up and sleep where he stood but forced himself into the shower, letting the warm water heat up his body before he turned off the heat and stood there, shivering as the cold water hit his body like individual pin pricks.

After a few minutes he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. He moved into the main room, grabbing a bottle of whisky as he passed through the kitchen area before sitting heavily on the bed. Staring blankly at the television he opened the bottle and took a mouthful of the amber liquid. It moved down his throat in a slow, satisfying burn. Years of practice had made it so he didn't cough on the strength of it.

In his mind he knew what he was doing wasn't healthy and it wasn't fair. He knew that there were people depending on him to save the world but that's what he had been doing for so long now it was instinctive. They never saw what he did, not really. They knew the big picture but they didn't know the half of it.

He took another swig of the whisky and quickly got dressed, wincing slightly as he bumped one of his many bruises. He walked with a slight limp now after a nasty run in with something that had nearly got the best of him. There were so many innocents out there that he had to save. He had to make up for his mistakes. After all, it was his mistake from the very start, regardless of what they said.

Another sip of the drink and he felt himself beginning to fall into the all too familiar haze of drunkenness. He stopped then. He didn't need want to forget and that's what the alcohol did, it made him forget the most important things in his life. He would drink enough to take the edge of the world, most nights anyway. Every so often he would forget his rules and sink into the oblivion that the drink gave him.

Putting the bottle to one side he lay back on the bed, lacing his fingers behind his head he stared at the ceiling. The events of the last few years were running through his mind. His mistakes standing out clearly and constantly. He saw Lisa's face, full of concern, worry and love. A combination that he thought that he could live with but soon he knew he didn't deserve that. He wasn't allowed to be happy. During the day he could put on a brave front and carry on with his duty, it was the nights that brought everything back.

He yawned again and rolled over onto his side, looking across at the empty twin bed. It was one of the many habits that he couldn't break. Another yawn broke through his thoughts and he finally found himself drifting off into sleep.

He started awake some time later, eyes wide, his whole mind alert. Something had changed. The lamp was off and someone had placed a blanket over him. He sat up, peering into the darkness trying to see who was there.

"You can sleep, Dean. No one will disturb you while you rest," a familiar voice came from the darkness.

Dean opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. He went to get up when something lightly touched his forehead and he found himself sinking back into a deep sleep. For the first time in two years this sleep was not riddled with nightmares but was, instead, utterly dream free.

"Sorry, Dean. We need your help again," the figure in the room said to no one in particular before sighing and taking a seat opposite the bed, watching as Dean Winchester slept the sleep of the dead.

**A/N – a little angst goes a long way...this is set after Swan Song and more shall be explained tin due time... **


	2. It All Comes Down

Disclaimer – I don't own anything, unfortunately. I wish I did but I don't. Each character belongs to their respected (highly respected) owner.

**A/N – I am not quite sure where this is going so I will keep writing until my muses tell me to stop...**

Chapter One – It All Comes Down...

For the first time in months, Dean Winchester woke with a clear head and he wasn't so sure if that was a good thing. With a clear head he was hit with a barrage of memories, ones that he had tried to quash. Sam. Adam. His parents. The images flicked through his mind rapidly interposed with those of the people he'd saved. He last image fell on Lisa. Lisa smiling at him. Lisa screaming his name. Balling his hands into fists he rubbed his eyes as if he could get rid of the memories that way though he knew that it wouldn't work.

He sat up abruptly as he recalled the events of the night before. At first he thought that he'd had too much to drink but his worries became reality when he saw who was sitting in the corner of his room, watching him intently, barely blinking in his unnerving fashion. The crease in his brow deepened when he realised Dean was awake and staring at him. His visitor opened his mouth to say something but Dean scowled at him.

Not saying a word, Dean got up and walked straight past him, going directly to the bathroom. As he relieved himself he went over all the arguments he could come up with before realising there was no point avoiding the coming conversation. He was a grown man but still there were some things he wished he could avoid.

He flushed the toilet and quickly washed his hands, sparing a brief glance in the mirror. His hair was longer than he remembered and his eyes seemed dead, even to him. His cheekbones were even more prominent than the last time he had checked. Frowning he splashed some water on his face in a vain attempt to wake himself up.

Pushing open the door he slowly padded out into the main room of the dingy motel and was somewhat surprised to see a hot coffee and a cheeseburger sitting on the table. He looked from it to his visitor, a question in his eyes.

"Eat, Dean. In your own words, you look like..." his visitor began.

"Don't say it," Dean growled as he slid into the nearest seat.

He inspected the burger, sniffing it as well as the coffee knowing that if they were drugged he wouldn't be able to detect it by smell anyway. After a minute, in which his stomach rumbled loudly, he lifted the burger to his lips and took a bite. He chewed it methodically, not really tasting it, but knowing it was the right thing to do.

He ate the entire burger in the space of a few minutes, obviously hungrier than he felt. The coffee was still too warm but he slipped it delicately. He ignored the presence in the room, even though he knew it was a childish gesture on his behalf.

He sat there for a full minute after finishing before turning around and facing the person responsible for the sleep and food.

"Hey Cas, sorry I haven't been in touch," he deadpanned.

Castiel stared back at him. His eyes, as usual, were dark and unreadable but Dean swore then was a sadness there that he had never seen before. He wondered, idly, if Jimmy was still in there somewhere, watching everything or if he was just as dead as he felt. The thought scared him a little, as if it reaffirmed how broken he felt.

Castiel still didn't speak. Instead, he seemed content to be studying him, making Dean feel more unnerved as the clock on the wall continued on its path. Castiel attempted to return the stare but after a few minutes he gave up and slumped back into the chair.

"You came here for a reason, Cas. And I'm pretty sure that reason isn't to study me," Dean said between sips on the coffee.

"You are right, Dean. Trust me when I say I did not want to come here," he began.

"Nice seeing you too, Cas," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"That is not what I meant," Castiel almost stuttered, frowning at the scenario.

Dean felt the corners of his mouth turn up in a half smile. It wasn't often that you could get an angel to appear unruffled. Remembering what had happened, however, sobered him and he replaced the smile with the scowl that was becoming a permanent feature on his face.

"So, why are you here?" Dean said as he folded his arms over his chest.

"We need your help," Castiel said, simply.

Dean stared at him for a moment before opening his mouth and letting out a loud laugh. His body shook and he realised, belatedly, that he was on the verge of hysterics. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He looked up at Castiel and wasn't surprised to see that the man...the angel, hadn't moved. He was just staring at Dean as if this is what he expected.

"Look, Cas, I don't know what you expect but, if you hadn't noticed, I'm not the same person I was three years ago," Dean said, the bitterness in his voice surprising even him.

Castiel cocked his head to one side and opened his mouth to reply when there was a loud knock at the door. Dean started before moving to open the door. As he placed his hand on the door handle a sixth sense made him step back. Something definitely felt off and he moved to his bed, grabbing Ruby's knife. He always thought of it that way, Ruby's knife. Shaking the thoughts from his head he turned and faced the door.

"Who is it?" He called, surprised at the gruffness of his voice.

When there he was no answer he looked back at Castiel and had another surprise. Castiel was standing at alert and he had a sword in his hand. Dean could not recall him ever carry a weapon as such, aside from those he used to kill the other angels, but they were different compared to this sword. There seemed to be an aura surrounding the sword and Castiel, which made Dean take a step back.

"What the..."Dean exclaimed but then he saw Castiel's face and he backed away from the door.

Gently he lifted his head and sniffed the air as a familiar scent wafted through the door. "What is that?" He asked but Castiel just shook his head and suddenly reached out, gripping Dean by his shoulder.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean yelled trying to pull out of the angel's vice like grip.

He was about to use the knife on Cas when the door exploded inwards and someone stormed into the room, surrounded by dust and the remains of the door.

"Dean, get down," Castiel said, his voice still calm, as he pushed Dean roughly to the floor.

Dean braced for the impact and took the brunt of it in his knees. Grumbling under his breath, he groped for his gun, finding it easily under the mattress where he left it. He took aim and let off a round; waiting to hear a scream of pain but when he heard nothing he peered through the dust, trying to see what was happening. An unearthly scream rang through the room, making Dean shudder. It wasn't a sound that he had heard before and it seemed to linger in the air.

"Dean, we have to go," Castiel said, appearing by his side.

Dean had enough sense to agree with him, grabbing his keys from the nightstand.

"Not that way, Dean," Cas said, taking hold of his shoulder.

Dean blinked and found himself standing on a bridge. Castiel was standing next to him, methodically wiping a dark substance off the sword.

"Where are we? What's going on? What the hell have you gotten me involved in, Cas?" Dean began a series of quick fire questions.

Castiel looked thoughtful and, for a moment, Dean felt relieved that he had appeared but that feeling was instantly replaced with the anger he felt at the world for taking away his family.

"We need your help to find someone," Castiel said, slowly.

"What do you think I am? Some dog on a leash at your beck and call," Dean yelled, letting a little of the anger he felt fuel his words.

"No Dean, but you have a connection to the person we are looking for," Castiel explained, his face was still neutral but there was something in his tone that made Dean stop mid-rant.

"Who?" Dean asked warily as a sinking feeling filled his gut.

"It's Sam..."

Dean looked at Castiel, his eyes going wide. His stomach rolled and a roaring sound ran through his ears. Feeling dizzy he turned away from Cas and took a couple of steps before his legs gave way and he fell, landing heavily on his knees.

"He's alive?" He asked after a moment.

"Yes...but there is something you should know," Cas said.

Dean turned his dark eyes up towards Castiel. Anger seemed to be seeping from every pore. Standing slowly, he took a step towards Castiel. His grip tightened on his gun and he held fast to Ruby's knife.

Castiel cleared his throat. "He won't know who you are. His memory, his personality, didn't survive the possession by Lucifer. When he came back he didn't know who he was or even where he was. They thought it was better to let you think he was dead," Castiel said.

Dean heard the sorrow in his voice but everything else was muted. His head spun and his thoughts threatened to overload his brain. "He's alive," he repeated, slowly.

"And he's in trouble," Castiel said. "He's being hunted."

To be continued.


	3. Better to Forget?

Disclaimer – I don't own anything, unfortunately. I wish I did but I don't. Each character belongs to their respected (highly respected) owner.

Chapter Two – Better to Forget...?

_Somewhere in America_

Cody Campbell sat in a booth at a diner sipping on a rapidly cooling coffee as he flicked through the latest news. Dressed in jeans and a collared shirt he looked just like everyone else in there though his height made him stand out to the waitresses. Two of them had bets going in an attempt to get his phone number but so far he had barely noticed them, leaving one of them to think he was gay. The other waitress just thought that he was lost in his own world. His hazel eyes had seemed soulful and the way he flicked his hair out of his eyes made her smile.

Cody was unaware of all the attention he had been getting. He was tired and still had a long way to go. He had been on the road since five in the morning and he still had some way to go before he reached his new home. He smiled at that thought. He'd been working hard for the last two years to save enough money to put a deposit down on his dream house and he'd finally found it. He'd put a deposit on it on the spur of the moment and, for the first time in a long time, he had no doubts over what he was doing. He'd quick his job, packed up all his belongings into a U-haul trailer and now he was here, half way, in a diner.

Looking back on his life he knew he was extremely lucky. Roughly three years ago he had woken from a coma that his doctors had claimed was a miracle enough. He had no memories of the accident that resulted in his coma and, finding that he had no family, he found the entire thing refreshing. It seemed to him as if he had been reborn. What's more, the doctors were astounded at his quick recovery. After being in a coma for so long the doctors had been resigned to his fate in being a vegetable if he woke but he'd surprised everyone.

Smiling again, he folded his newspaper meticulously and finished his coffee. After a moment he signalled the waitress for a refill on the coffee, feeling that he was in no real rush and that he should be well caffeinated for the remainder of the journey. As he waited for his drink he pulled out a slightly battered laptop and booted it up.

When he had been released from the hospital he'd been surprised to find that he'd accrued a tidy amount in savings, it was enough to cover medical bills and begin a new life. At first he wasn't sure what line of work he was going to enter, not really knowing what skills he may have had but ultimately he had found his calling in writing for the local paper. He wrote a column on anything really. He was surprised at how easily he had gotten the job and began to believe he had a guardian angel. It wasn't long before he found himself going to church on a semi regular basis.

As the screen came up Cody quickly pulled up a word document and began typing, his long fingers moving deftly over the keys. Since the coma he had been writing lists and other thoughts in an attempt to remember who he was. He would even write out his dreams, hoping that he would, someday, find out who he really was.

Last night he'd had a dream that was new to him. Normally, his dreams were very faded, as if he was looking through several layers of dust or watching a very old movie. This time, however, his dream had been very clear. In it he had been sitting around a table talking to three others. He couldn't see any features and the voices didn't sound familiar but there was something about the house that he was in that made him think it was important.

"Here's your coffee, sir," someone interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up and found himself staring into a pair of pretty but slightly vacant blue eyes. The waitress was pretty, Cody couldn't deny that, but there was nothing else there so he smiled and thanked her before turning back to his computer.

He was in the middle of finishing when he felt a shiver of fear trace down his back. Instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he glanced over his shoulder. Nothing in the diner had changed but he felt the urge to leave. He quickly packed up his gear and chucked some money on the table, making sure there was enough for a tip.

In a few short steps he was out the door and heading towards his battered pickup truck with the U-haul barely hanging on the end of it. Sliding into the cab he spared one last glance over to the diner and was surprised to see the blonde haired waitress staring back at him. For one quick instant, Cody thought that there was something wrong with her. Her eyes were no longer blue; instead they seemed to be almost pure white, as if she'd developed cataracts. Blinking, he shook his head and looked again. The waitress saw him looking and gave him a timid smile and wave, which he returned. Her eyes were normal.

"Whoa, Cody, too much caffeine," he berated himself, chuckling softly.

He started the truck and made his way onto the highway. Hopefully, if his truck lasted, he would be at his new home by the end of the day. If not, he knew he could sleep in the cab or even get a room at a cheap motel though he was a bit wary about the last option. There was something about motels that made him feel strange. Plus, he never knew how clean they were.

As he drove along the highway he slowly forgot about the strange encounter. He flipped through the radio stations, searching for something relaxing and road worthy but found nothing but heavy metal and overplayed pop. Sighing he turned the radio off and stared at the road ahead of him slipping into a rhythm of driving that seemed natural though he couldn't recall ever driving for longer than a couple of hours at the most.

Cody had been on the road for nearly an hour when he realised that there was someone behind him. He pulled to the side, giving them ample room to overtake but when they didn't he shrugged and pulled back on the road. Some people tended to like following others so he paid them no attention.

After another hour Cody realised that the same vehicle was still behind him. There had been numerous places for overtaking and a lot more roads for the vehicle to turn off. He was not one to normally give into paranoia but something about this vehicle had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end again.

The car was an old make and model that looked to be in good condition. He couldn't see who was driving and they seemed to be keeping well back yet Cody's alarm bells were ringing and he scanned the road ahead looking for somewhere safe to stop. His luck was still with him as he saw the neon lights of a gas station and he indicated his intentions, pulling over to the side safely. The car behind him suddenly seemed to roar to life and sped past him.

Cody had a brief second to see the driver, who looked to be male, maybe a few years older than him if that. He had an angry look about him but Cody knew he had never seen him before.

"Some people," he muttered under his breath.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he looked at the gas station and decided to get something to drink. He entered the store, greeted by the soft tinkling of bells, and walked down to the fridges, looking for something to drink. He was reading the back label of a drink when the bells went off again. Something about their abrupt clatter made Cody look up. His eyes darted to the front and when he didn't see anyone he laughed softly, embarrassed by his reaction.

He selected his drink and walked up to the front counter. Whoever had entered the store was now standing in front of him and Cody relaxed even more, seeing that it was a young girl with dark curly hair. She was wearing a frilly dress that reminded Cody of those he'd seen young girls wear to communion.

She had a drink in her hands as well and was calmly counting out money on the table in a slow steady manner. The cashier looked bored but smiled none-the-less at the girl's display of independence. Cody couldn't help but grin as well.

The girl finished counting and thanked the cashier, turning slowly she made eye contact with Cody.

"Oh goody, it is you," she said in a sing song voice.

A look of confusion washed over his face.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Cody asked, frowning.

The girl crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "What have they done to you to make you not remember us," she said.

Cody glanced up at the cashier who looked just as confused as he did.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I don't know who you are," Cody said, not quite sure why he was apologising.

The girl laughed softly but there was something in that laugh that made him cringe.

"This isn't fun at all. Oh well, I guess I can wait if I have too. It might make this more fun," she said. "Oh, this might help you recall," she added, as an afterthought.

She turned back to face the cashier and held up her small hand palm facing forward. Her head seemed to roll back and Cody saw the cashier frown before he began clawing at his neck. He began to choke and his eyes rolled back. Cody could only watch as the cashier seemed to rise off the ground, tears and snot were streaming from his face and a pungent smell filled the air. Cody realised, belatedly, that the cashier had emptied his bowels.

He took two steps back from the girl who, by this time, had turned her head to face him. It was an impossible angle made even more frightening by the fact that her eyes had gone completely black.

"Having fun yet?" A dark voice hissed from her mouth. "No? Don't worry, there's more to come."

Cody took a step back before fleeing the store. He didn't stop until he was back in his truck and on the road. The day had turned cold and he found he couldn't stop shaking. Glancing down he saw the drink he was going to buy sitting on the seat next to him.

"What the hell?" He asked no one.

**A/N – I hope this makes sense. I actually have a weird plan on where this is going. Hope you are still enjoying and let me know if there are any mistakes...I've read through it so many times but I feel as if my eyes are full of sand. Plus I'm rushing out for dinner and wanted to get this up for you all. Peace and pancakes all. **


	4. Beginnings

Disclaimer – I don't own anything, unfortunately. I wish I did but I don't. Each character belongs to their respected (highly respected) owner.

Chapter Three – Beginnings

Dean was in shock.

"Sammy's alive?" He heard himself repeat for the third time.

He was having trouble believing what he had just heard and some part of him didn't want to believe it because, if he did, it meant that he had broken his promise to his brother. A heavy weight seemed to hit him then, a weight of guilt.

For three years he'd believed that his brother had sacrificed himself for all of humanity, leaving everyone behind in one final blaze of glory. Abandoning him. He had felt an immense amount of hate that was directed towards Sam. He'd escaped everything even if he was in hell. Dean tried to get rid of the thoughts, the anger. It wasn't like him to be so bitter but things had changed and he'd changed along with them.

"Dean," Castiel spoke softly and Dean was compelled to look up. "We have to find him. He's very important."

Dean bit back a retort for, in his mind, he knew that Sammy had always been the important one. That's why he'd risked his life again and again to help his brother and he knew that he'd do it again. It was as much a part of him as his sarcasm and razor sharp wit. The words his father had spoken on that fateful night so many years ago were still stuck in his mind, almost like a mantra. _Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! NOW, DEAN, GO! _

"Where do we look?" Dean said, his tone devoid of emotion as he began the task of leaving.

He moved with a familiar rhythm around the room, packing everything up as quickly as he had set it out. All his weapons were secured in a matter of minutes and his meagre amount of clothing was ready and waiting.

"I...we don't know," Castiel said after a moment.

Dean gave him a harsh look. "I thought you knew everything."

It was Castiel's turn to sigh as he walked towards him. "He still has the Enochian symbols on his skeleton, rendering him impossible to find. If it had been that simple we would have found him and left you out of this."

Dean almost did a double take. "You were never going to tell me that he was alive, were you, Cas."

Castiel looked at him squarely in the eye. "You were never supposed to know. This was a gift to the both of you. We hoped that you would feel as if a burden had been lifted and that you could get on with your life. We never expected you to do what you have done."

Dean clenched his fists and took several deep breaths. Lisa's face flashed through his mind, her sad smile followed by an echo of her screams. He shook his head in an all too familiar gesture before hefting his bags over his shoulder.

"Let's go," he said, walking out of the room, not waiting for Castiel's reply.

His car was sitting in front of his motel room and he was surprised to see that it was looking cleaner than it had in a long time. Ever since he'd lost Sammy, the Impala was more of a constant reminder of his failure and his enjoyment of driving it had diminished some. Yet, seeing it here, looking clean and almost normal, made him feel a little more alive than he had in years. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he'd picked up from years of watching his brother do the same.

He knew Castiel was watching him and he wondered if he had been keeping an eye on him this whole time. He walked over to the Impala and shoved his bag in the back as he slid into the driver's seat. Castiel slowly got into the passenger side, looking somewhat weary as he did so.

Dean, sensing where the weariness was coming from sighed. "I'm not going to punch you, Cas. I might have a year ago, hell maybe a week ago but it's not worth it."

Castiel nodded but Dean was certain that he didn't understand.

"So, how are we going to find him if you can't work your mojo on him?" Dean asked, pulling out onto the empty street.

"I don't know."

"Look, Cas, you're not giving me much to go on here," Dean said, while trying to think through ways to look for Sam.

"We were hoping that you might have an idea of what he might do, where he might go. Even though he does not remember who he is there will still be parts of his, psyche, that will lead him towards certain places, jobs maybe," Castiel said.

Dean looked over at the angel, studying his profile for a moment.

"You've changed, Cas," he murmured after a moment.

"Yes. You have changed as well, Dean. You are a lot...darker," he replied after a moment.

Dean nodded in agreement. "That tends to happen when your whole family is taken from you. Every. Last. One."

He knew that he wasn't being fair but the knowledge that Sammy was alive had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He had seen too many people that he loved die. Hell, he'd seen his brother die more times that he could believe. Now, here he was, looking for his brother who wouldn't know him anymore.

"Yes," Castiel replied simply. "We cannot change that and we don't have time to dwell on it. We need to find Sam before Meg does."

Upon hearing that name Dean jerked hard on the wheel, nearly ploughing into an oncoming logging truck who blared a loud horn at him. Dean pulled back into his own lane and pulled off to the side.

"Meg is after him? Meg, as in evil bitch from hell, Meg? Azazel's daughter?"

"She is one of them. There are still some of Lilith's and Azazel's people about and they would love nothing more than to get their revenge."

Dean swore under his breath. "I'm never going to be free of this, am I?"

"Dean. I wish I didn't have to ask you to do this but it's in your blood. You are destined to continue down this path."

Shrugging his shoulders Dean directed his car onto the road again. A familiar feeling washed over him. It was a sense of doing something right and it was a feeling that he had not had in a long time. He had a sense of purpose.

Glancing in the rear view mirror he was almost surprised to see that there was a vehicle following him.

"Feels like old times," Dean said, sighing as Castiel glanced behind them.

"Demon," he confirmed.

**To be continued...**

**A/N – sorry for the lack of updates. Bogged down with course work. Also, sorry for the short chapter as I am going off for a couple of days. Hope you enjoy. **


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